Something
by The iPod Addict
Summary: It was a strange phenomenon, witnessing an eye covered in burn tissue develop dark circles. It was obvious Zuko wasn't sleeping well. But there was a war going on, and it was up to five teenagers to save the world; no one was really getting a proper amount of rest. Possibly readable as a one-shot; rating will go up eventually.


_I don't really have a title for this yet. Or even much in the form of a plan. I'll probably up the rating for later chapters. I suppose this is readable as a one-shot for now. I don't own Avatar or any of the characters._

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It was a strange phenomenon, witnessing an eye covered in burn tissue develop dark circles. It was much more apparent on Zuko's unscathed eye, but with how closely Sokka stared sometimes, he could swear he'd see very soft, slightly darker red shading under the teenager's eye. Nearly purple, actually.

It was obvious Zuko wasn't sleeping well. But there was a war going on, and it was up to five teenagers to save the world; no one was really getting a proper amount of rest.

Sokka knew he shouldn't worry about things that really weren't his business. It was the one lesson his father taught that had stuck. Really, Sokka didn't even care for the firejerk. The teen hunted their little makeshift family for months on end and even now he questioned Zuko's motives for joining the group. He might've seemed genuine enough with his little speech, but Sokka wasn't sure Zuko was capable of genuine.

That Katara didn't like Zuko either helped. As often as he disagreed with his baby sister, he trusted her judgment on this one. Sure, because it was aligned with his, but also because it was Katara who was alone with Zuko in Ba Sing Se. It was the two of them, underground, hoping someone would find them; save them.

Katara never spoke about what happened that day, but she didn't have to. Sokka saw how viciously she attacked Zuko the next time their paths crossed. Something happened down there: Zuko showed his true colors, and – whatever had happened – they weren't white.

No, Sokka thought. He absolutely did _not_ trust the firebender – who (not that Sokka was prejudiced) were the least trustworthy of the elemental benders. Fire just couldn't be controlled; it just wasn't its nature. And Sokka knew to trust nature. Fire had no qualms, burned friend and foe alike. It was alive, the only element that when left unbended still breathed. _Raged_. And while water healed, earth created, and air gave breath, fire's only purpose was destruction.

Sokka thought much of the same could be said for Zuko. His scar was only a constant reminder of the dangers of fire; as well as the Fire Nation itself. He didn't know the exact story, but a burn on a firebender wasn't exactly a mystery; fire (like those who wield it) simply can't be trusted. Just like every person in that nation. Fire is unloyal and waits for a chance to betray. It can turn even against its own bender, just like it did with Zuko, the story as clear as the scar on his face. Sokka felt no pity for the prince; it was his own fault for letting his guard down, for trusting fire as much as Katara could trust her water.

Sokka didn't discriminate, really he didn't. But there was only one nation behind this war – only one that took Yue, his father, his mother from him…Spirits, _his mother_ …

And right now, the prince of that nation was asleep in the next hall.

Wind blew through the air temple, dancing over Sokka's face and whispering in his ear the words of his father: _Keep your friends close, and enemies closer. Know them and you know everything you'll ever need to when time comes to battle. You'll know to expect his every move, and he who surprises his opponent is he who wins the fight._

Sokka was only a boy when his father gave him this advice, but it was invaluable, Sokka could tell, and he remembered the words clearly still today. It was the one lesson his father taught that had stuck.

Soft footsteps echoed down his hall and Sokka's eyes snapped open and his body tensed alert. He clenched his boomerang from where it lay under his pillow, but otherwise did not move until, seconds later, a hooded figure walked past his doorway without pause.

Sokka counted seconds, waited for the footsteps' sound to die down, before grabbing his sword and quietly, silently following the path of the man.

Outside the temple a small fire raged, crackling with life, and Sokka had to stop himself from staring at the hooded prince that held a hand out to it – not in an attempt to gain warmth, but in order to control the live flames.

Sokka lowered his sword and approached. He sat down, finally drawing Zuko's eyes in an alerted stare and body in a tensed position. Sokka ignored it all, thrusting his space sword into the dirt beside him. "Couldn't sleep?" he questioned, leaning towards the fire even as his body screamed not to.

Even Sokka's instincts knew not to trust fire, no matter how warm against the chill of the night.

Still, he was more than aware of his body position and the language it gave off. And this was important.

It took a moment for Zuko to reel in his shock and to turn back to the fire. "No," his quiet voice replied. He did not elaborate.

Sokka waited. He stared at the fire almost as if he were studying it, as if he could discern its master's true thoughts through it. And when he decided he probably couldn't, he waited some more.

Zuko knew what Sokka was doing. No one in his life had ever remained silent in order to make him speak – except, perhaps, his uncle. Fire was an element of life, sure, but it was also short-tempered. Impatient. Father would yell at Zuko if he didn't receive the answer he wanted. Azula would trick it out of him. Even his mother would speak, so she could coax him with gentle words.

But Sokka was silent, without the air of a finished conversation. It only added to Zuko's ire and problem. "It's too quiet," he at last continued, his voice too loud to belong to the quiet night.

Sokka didn't react – didn't turn towards him, or even look for that matter; didn't cough or give a grunt of acknowledgment. He just stared through the flames of Zuko's fire.

With the ongoing silence, Zuko felt the heat in him rise; without his focus, the fire shuttered slightly, barely, until he said at last, "I'm used to uncle's snoring throughout the night."

Zuko blushed and he finally stopped watching for Sokka's reaction, his expression turned back to the fire. He knew Sokka would remain silent as he had before, but he felt better; slightly embarrassed at the overshare maybe, but still relieved that now his obligatory half of the conversation was over.

"You could always share a room with my sister; it probably sounds the same," Sokka said to the fire.

Zuko's eyes jumped to the water tribe boy in shock and noted with great relief the tiniest upturn of his mouth. Without thought he laughed – he probably shouldn't have, but… "Katara snores?" he asked incredulously.

Sokka finally leaned back and looked at the fire bender. "Like a horse ox," he answered with a grin. "You should've heard her back at home, when we all shared an igloo." Sokka looked back at the fire. His smile changed. "It took some time getting used to. Sleeping alone. But I suppose we have to grow up eventually."

Zuko watched Sokka stare into his fire. It crackled against the silent night, shining beneath the star-lit sky. It was beautiful.

"Yeah."


End file.
